


Mementos From Mars

by L1av



Category: The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Platonic Romance, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Recovery, Romantic Romance, adorable children and babies, cuddlepuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on Mars, Mark Watney wrote letters addressed to Chris Beck when he felt overwhelmingly alone and professed his love to the flight surgeon. Several years later after Ares 3 returned, these letters finally resurface and fall into Dr. Chris Beck's hands. Chris approaches Mark with a proposal to move in with him and Beth and be part of their family. </p><p>What Mark gets? A family who is willing to prove that he never has to feel alone ever again (and endless tubs of ice cream).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mementos From Mars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holahydra (eyefuckingstiel)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=holahydra+%28eyefuckingstiel%29).



> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> More poly. Because always poly.

They landed. Every crew member breathed a sigh of relief as they prepared to leave the safety of their MAV and head into the hab.

“Hey, do you think we could go check out where Mark survived?” one asked.

The commander cocked a brow and shot a stern gaze over at his crewmen. “That’s Martinez’ call.”

“It’d just be cool,” the crewmember sulked, slipping into his suit.

They reached the hab easily enough. The wind wasn’t terribly strong and everything seemed to be in order. They’d need to do some general maintenance and set things up, but they were set to get down to business for their thirty-one day mission on Mars.

Before leaving though, curiosity had gotten the best of the commander and with Martinez’ blessing, they planned out a trip to send two crewmembers over to the hab where Mark Watney had survived. On the wall was his scribbled penmanship, on the computers were his logs and mixed within his documentation of survival were personal letters from Mark Watney,all addressed to Dr. Chris Beck.

* * *

 

**2 Years Later:**

“These are private,” Venkat Kapoor, Mars Mission Director, said as he scrolled through the documents detailing a man’s suffering and personal professions. “We shouldn’t keep these. I thought I ordered them deleted.”

“You did. I overruled that. They’re on NASA property,” Teddy Sanders, the Director of NASA said. “And Mark created these with the intention of people finding them.”

Kapoor furrowed his brow, swaying in his chair. “I disagree. He thought he was dying. And Dr. Beck...”

“Is married and has a child,” Teddy finished. “I’m not saying these get released to Dr. Beck. I’m saying we use them. They’re good research material for astronauts and their psychology.”

Kapoor swayed his head to the side, his lips pressing into each other tightly. “Fine. But these do not get released to anyone else.”

* * *

 

Chris,

I can call you Chris right now right? I mean, I always call you Chris to your face but this is on a computer in the hab. I guess it’s supposed to be formal but as I’m the only one on this planet right now I don’t think anyone is going to do a grammar check for formality on me. I call you Beck in my mission logs though. Maybe Beck would’ve been better but I’m in too deep already so. Chris.

So I’m lonely. Remember when we used to have our personal talks when we got lonely? That’s why I’m writing. I’m just pretending my fingers are my mouth and you’re the computer (woah that was dirty, wait). I miss your face. You always look like a damn kicked puppy but it’s so great. I mean, not the kicking part, but the puppy part. Most doctors look a certain way. I’m sure you know. “That look.” The look that they can’t be bothered or the rest of the world is somehow inferior to them. You don’t do that. You invite people with your smile and raised brows when you pout. You’ve got a good face. Wow, this is actually helping. If Mars doesn’t kill me first, I’m sure the embarrassment of this letter will but, oh well. I’m the only person on Mars. I’m the only person on Mars.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

So I almost died! I was making water and I’ll spare you the details but yeah. Almost died. I was an idiot. I’m lonely again so here I am. I wish Commander Lewis listened to music other than disco. I wish you didn’t just bring stupid doctor magazines. Seriously, who does that? Don’t you have a personality? I was trying to spread the complaining around but honestly, you went from adorable kicked puppy to stereotypical doctor and it hasn’t even been three sols! Seriously? Medical magazines? Can you even jack off to that? Wait, maybe I don’t want to know.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

I’m growing potatoes! I don’t have anyone to share my excitement with so here I am, writing to you again. Why you? Maybe I’ll explain. Actually, between “explain” and “actually” I sat here for a good hour listening to the wailing winds outside and I couldn’t even bring myself to write it down to a computer that I know will never send off my words to you. I’ll probably die here. Maybe you should know. Maybe you will know. Maybe you already do. Do you? Oh God, if you do and you never–

I hope you and the crew are okay.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

I’ve been really good about just recording my time here and entering everything about survival and blah blah blah. I’ve tried to avoid these messages but I just keep coming back. It gives me some kind of comfort even if you’re not really here. I can still see you in my head. I can still hear your voice. You know you have that type of voice that sounds like you just got fucked? Don’t hate! It’s a good thing! It’s all sultry and seductive. Sorry. This is probably weird. But yeah. You do have a “I just got fucked and screamed my lungs out” kind of voice. It’s nice.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

Things are going really badly for me. I was able to contact NASA and I thought things were looking up but then the hab’s airlock blew. I was trapped inside and my faceplate was broken and. And all I thought about was you and your stupid face and that just-got-fucked voice. God, I hope you’re okay. I hope the crew’s okay. I hope everyone on the Earth is okay. I’m miserable. I’m hungry. I’d literally eat my hand if there was a promise of a hamburger afterwards. I hurt all over and I miss your hands and how they’d always make me feel better. I miss your eyes that changed color in the light. Christ. Christ I’m crying. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. Please don’t hate me. If someone ever gives you these. If NASA delivers them to you in a big envelope with a pretty bow, please don’t hate me. I don’t mean to feel the way I do. I. I just. Fuck.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

I love you.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

Okay so I couldn’t leave it there. I need to explain to you this. I need to get it off my chest because every breath I take burns my lungs and my sternum feels like it’s going to snap from how tight my skin feels. I’m starving. I’m so hungry and everything hurts and all I can think about is you. I love you. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now. We met and I heard that voice and it sent shivers down my spine. I saw your pout and I found myself holding my breath. I heard your laugh and….oh boy. I love you. I love everything about you, from how you manhandle me when I’m being an uncooperative little shit to your bossy little tones and how you’d cross your arms and huff at me. God, I miss it. I’d give anything to see it one more time.

But as I’m sure you remember. We have these little talks when we’re lonely. And I know how you feel about Johanssen. I’m going to tell you in a letter that will actually reach you to tell her. Tell her how you feel because right now my sternum is finally settling back against my ribs and holding them right and I can barely see the keyboard but it feels so good to type this out. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long but I didn’t realize it till I was on this planet by my motherfucking self. It’s been eating at me and burning more calories than I can afford. I’m slowly going insane from starvation, disco and Happy Days but I know this with absolute clarity.

I love you. And I’ll die thinking about you.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

I told you to tell her. You’re going to read that letter thinking I’m sitting there with a calm demeanor and gentle voice but I was screaming and banging my fist on the keyboard. I had to backspace so many times. I hated telling you that. I hated telling you to love someone else when I ache to see you again. I hated telling you to be happy with someone who isn’t me. I want you. I want to hold you. I want to be the first person you see in the morning. I want your sleepy grumbles and your bed hair. I want your sneezes that spray on my face because it snuck up on you. I want your laughs that make you fart (don’t lie I know you do it and it’s hilarious cause I do it too). I want your acne that you get when you’re stressed or caving on your diet (seriously, just eat like a normal person please?). I want it. I want all of it. I don’t want her to have it but that’s not fair. You love her. You love her so much that it’s written into your soul and woven into the lines of your face. So I told you to tell her. My heart hurts. I think I’m having a panic attack. I wish you were here to tell me I’m not having a panic attack. I wish your hand was on my back and you were giving me that look of concern ‘til you realize I’m just being melodramatic and then you’d do that adorable little eye roll where you kind of put your whole head into it. Fuck I want it.

I hope she loves you the way I love you.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

You’re coming. You’re coming back to get me. You shouldn’t be but you are. All of you. You’re risking your lives and way more space time but you’re coming. You all are. I’m crying. I’ve been crying. I’m going to give you the biggest hug and you’ll think it’s because I’m so happy to see another human being but no. It’s because I’ll be so happy to see just you. You’re coming for me.

God, I’m going to finally hear that just-got-fucked voice again. You have no idea how excited I am to hear you speak. I’m going to complain about weird pains and shit just to keep you talking to me. Granted, I do have weird pains, and there’s a ton of sores on my body. Is that normal? I should have you look at these.

Because you’re coming.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

I’m leaving the hab today. You’re on your way and I’m leaving to find you again. God I hope you smile at me and don’t stop. I need to see your face. I need to. I. I want to tell you how I feel. I want to tell you that I’d be the best thing for you. When I get all my muscle back, I swear I’d pick you up bridal style and we’d brush our noses against each other’s and just laugh about how stupid cheesy we’re being. I swear I’d make you watch dumb trashy reality tv with me and push my toes into your thigh when you’d criticize whatever dumb or foolish thing going on with the cast. I’d give you everything. I don’t have much now, and you already have my heart. But I’d give you anything you needed. I’d run my fingers through your hair when you’re sick. I’d brush your tears away when you were sad. I’d stay up late if you were out. I’d tuck my hands into the back pockets on your jeans and kiss you so softly.  We’d be like two planets lazily floating by each other (yeah I made a space analogy. Sue me). I want to tell you I’m better for you. But I’m not. I can’t give you children. I can’t give you the softness of a woman’s body. I’m all edges and bones now. I’ve got a horrible beard and I think I look like a serial killer. I can’t give you tiny giggles like she does. I can’t give you long lashes and plump lips. I don’t have boobs.

I wish I could be better for you. I wish I could give you everything you needed. But I’m not good enough. And you deserve only the finest the universe has to offer. Johanssen is beautiful. She’s small and soft. Kind and bubbly. A total nerd. You’re so in love with her. I’m just so in love with you.

-Mark Watney

 

Chris,

This is my last entry. I shaved my beard. I feel kind of like me again. I’m small now. I hurt and I don’t remember what chocolate tastes like. But I just remembered something that I haven’t thought about for awhile.

I forget what your laugh sounds like. I think I can remember but I’m not sure if it’s what I think you should sound like or if it is what you sound like. I know your voice is a mixture of sandpaper, the velvet of a rose petal and the softest rumbling of thunder in the distance but I don’t remember what it sounds like laughing. I’ve cried for fifteen minutes over this. And I’m an idiot.

I can’t wait to hear it again. I’m going to have to come up with some way to explain why I’m crying when I hear it. Eyelash excuses are so overused. Maybe I’ll just pull the whole “I’ve been by myself on Mars for entirely too long” card. Yeah. I’ll do that.

I’m going to cry when I hear your laugh and I can’t be more excited.

-Mark Watney, signing off. I’ll see you soon.

* * *

 

Mark Watney stood in a long conference room, his gaze locked on the screen that lazily showed his soul to those present. Luckily, no one in here was anyone he felt would care. He broke protocol and he wasn’t entirely sure there’d be any repercussions but since Beth and Chris were able to get married, he was pretty sure he was safe (oh and that whole he’d been stranded on Mars for a hard minute thing). He closed his eyes, feeling his fists clench against his ribs where he’d crossed his arms. He’d been so afraid on Mars. He thought he was going to die every day and when he felt he was safe he was reminded of how _alone_ he was. A whole planet. To be alone and the only living thing on a _whole_ planet? Those letters were the only things that kept him sane. They’d reminded him that he was still human. He’d written more but those were on napkins or letters he eventually deleted because they were too much for him to even know they existed. These were the ones he could stomach people knowing once he was dead but he wasn’t dead and now they knew.

Writing these letters was more than therapeutic for him. They were grounding. They kept him alive and reminded him that he wasn’t born on Mars. That there’d been people who’d known him. That they’d miss him when he was gone. It was the only solace in an otherwise bleak and cold experience. One that’d changed him forever. He still struggled with being alone at night when the wind howled. He’d gotten heavy duty curtains to try to reduce the noise. He was now considering those cool steel ones that slipped down your windows at the touch of a button. He hated the howl of the wind. He wouldn’t even tell his therapist that he slept in the bathtub when the wind was exceptionally loud. He never would.

“We thought you should see these,” Kapoor said, pressing his fingers together in front of his face as he leaned forward. “Sanders requests we use them for psychological evaluation studies.”

“And Dr. Beck?” Mark asked, his voice was ragged and tired. He could barely recognize it as his own. His throat swelled, threatening to remove all oxygen from his body and rid him of life.

“Dr. Beck has no reason to receive these. Unless that’s your wish?” Kapoor responded, raising his brows.

Mark swallowed, trying desperately to remember he wasn’t spiraling around in a tin can near Mars’ atmosphere. That he wasn’t alone on a planet that was trying to kill him. He was grounded, on Earth, around people but why? Why did his eyes burn and his chest hurt just as bad as it did on Mars? “I…I don’t–”

“We’ll keep them sealed from him,” Kapoor concluded. He straightened up his papers, grabbing the remote to flick off the screen that spilled Mark’s emotional guts all around the room in vivid color.

Mark felt like he was spinning, rolling and being knocked around every which way just like he’d been when the Ares 3 crew came back for him. He followed Kapoor out of the room, peeking over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them.

“Yes?” Kapoor asked as he closed his office door to give them some privacy.

“He doesn’t know right? That wasn’t just for show. He really doesn’t know, right?”

Kapoor sat behind his desk, leaning his arms against it. “No. He doesn’t know. That’d be cruel to you and inconvenient to him.”

“Inconvenient?” Mark echoed, his voice layered with bitter curiosity. He leaned against one of the bookshelves, reaching up to gently caress the potted plant that sat atop it.

“Watney,” Kapoor sighed, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. “He’s been married to Beth for a few years now. He’s got a child and another on the way. This would be inconvenient, yes.”

“Why? I mean, he’s not g–” Mark stopped the word before it slipped from his mouth. “He’s not like me. So. There’s nothing that’d happen. He’d learn about it and be weirded out and then move on.”

“It could ruin your friendship. I presume you’ve remained friends?”

Mark shivered, remembering the night a few weeks back when he’d been over at Beth and Chris’ house, helping them grill burgers on the back porch and tossing curly fries at Beth’s swollen belly. “Yes…” he replied begrudgingly.

Kapoor nodded, clicking his tongue. “The files will remain sealed. He won’t have access.”

“Thank you,” Mark whispered, turning to leave. He couldn’t stop the tears before he reached the bathroom. Yes, he’d remained friends with Chris. Yes, he selfishly soaked up every second he could with the doctor and that sultry, just-got-fucked voice and bright, big eyes. He held their child and played games with her and sang along to kids’ shows just to watch her smile. She had Chris’ smile.

A suited man was in the bathroom as Mark rounded into it. He sported a confused, rather surprised look against his face.

“What’s the matter!?” Mark spat. “Haven’t you ever seen a miserable man before?! Get the fuck out!”

The man ran from the bathroom without drying his hands.

Mark gripped the sink, wheezing as tears streamed from his eyes. He hated this. He hated everything about this. He should never have written those letters. He should’ve kept his feelings buried in the deepest pits of his stomach and swallowed them up for eternity. It was out and even though Chris was blissfully ignorant to the storm that plagued Mark inside, others knew. Mark couldn’t hide it anymore. Others knew how much he loved that stupid, pushy, puppy-faced doctor.

* * *

 

“Okay, data dump has been sent up to the _Hermes_ and I forwarded all correspondence to their respective receivers,” a woman said as she sat down at her desk. She yawned, rubbing at her temples. “What a day.” She only had one more step to do, which was forward her log to Kapoor before calling it a night and going home. Clicking the log and dragging it into her drop box, she sent it through her email and flicked the sleep switch on her computer. “Another one bites the dust.”

She swung around in her chair, getting to her feet to exit the building for the evening. Along her way, she actually bumped into Kapoor as he was walking toward the exit as well. “Hello!” she chimed.

“Hello,” Kapoor replied, a soft smile on his face. “Had a good day?”

“As always,” she replied as they got into the elevator together. “Sent up the data dump and forwarded the log to your email.”

“Excellent,” Kapoor replied, pulling out his phone and scrolling to his email. “W-wait, you sent… Oh. Oh _fuck_!”

The woman’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping at Kapoor’s sudden change in behavior. “Excuse me?”

“You sent the wrong files!” Kapoor exclaimed. “You sent the letters to Dr. Beck!”

* * *

 

Mark lay in bed, staring up at the slowly moving ceiling fan, one arm tossed casually under his pillow. He hated sleeping at night. At night when he was alone, despite knowing if he opened his noise-reduction curtains and he could hear cars slowly going by his home, he always felt entirely too alone. Sometimes he needed to get a good orgasm out to get him to sleep. It was never sexual. He just needed to tire himself out. Sometimes he’d read. Sometimes he’d watch the news to just reassure himself that he wasn’t in a hab eating potatoes grown from his own shit. Tonight he was trying to pretend that he wasn’t fighting a losing battle against a planet so very far away that almost took his life.

Then the phone rang.

He groaned, reaching his cell phone (another reassurance he was on Earth) and looked lazily at the name. Chris Beck. He answered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Hey, what’s up?”

_“Did I wake you?”_

Mark looked over at the clock flashing midnight and sighed. “No. Can’t sleep.”

_“Me either.”_

“Why can’t you? Thought kids always made parents tired.”

Chris laughed softly. He echoed into the receiver. Mark assumed he was in the kitchen of his large suburban home. _“Yeah she’s a spitfire. But she’s down with Beth.”_

“Is that why you’re kicked to the curb?” Mark teased. “You can always come snuggle with me.”

He always joked about it. He put it out so very far into the open, going so far as to say “hey handsome” to Chris when he’d been yanked back into the _Hermes._ It was just to keep it out there and pretend that he wasn’t hiding it even though he knew he was hiding it so deep that he felt comfortable _joking_ about it.

 _“That’s actually…why I’m calling,”_ Chris replied tightly.

Mark’s heart sped up, hope shooting into it, pumping glittery fire through his veins and lighting his nerves up like Christmas. “Yeah?”

_“I– Someone. I got your letters.”_

Planets didn’t fall out of the sky. It was, scientifically, impossible. Mark’s world fell. It fell at breakneck speed, plummeting from the sun, enveloped into darkness and cold till nothing was left as all the last remnants of human civilization fell into the sky and beyond.

_“Mark?”_

“I– I– I’m here,” Mark stammered. “You weren’t– They were supposed to hide those.”

 _“It was an accident,”_ Chris explained. _“Someone called to ask me to delete the files before opening but I already saw. Mark.”_

“Please don’t,” Mark strained through clenched teeth. His heart was shattering up into the void as his planet continued to spiral into nothingness. “I know already. I know.”

_“Why’d you tell me to– to go for it? With Beth? I’m married. I’ve got a kid!”_

“Stop. Stop, please I can’t,” Mark whimpered as tears silently fell from his eyes.

_“I just need to know!”_

“I thought I was _dying_!” Mark shouted into the phone. “I thought I was dying and-” His voice went hoarse as the glands in his throat swelled. “It wouldn’t be fair. Life’s never been fair to me, so why should it have started then?”

 _“You should’ve said something! I need to see you,”_ Chris blurted urgently.

“Absolutely _not_!” Mark protested. “I’m barely holding it together sitting in a black room on a phone with you.”

 _“Mark, please!”_ Chris wailed. He slammed his fists down on something, Mark assumed it was the counter. _“Please.”_

Rationally, people who didn’t care about others had no reason to see them. If Chris didn’t care, he’d simply stop calling Mark and cut him out– make excuses. Chris wanted to see Mark. Logically, that meant that this wasn’t going to go horribly, but it still wasn’t going to end well.

Mark knew how Chris felt about Beth. They were in love and had a child with another on the way. They were the family Mark never would have but always want. Mark distantly thought he’d make a great dad.

 _“Mark?”_ Chris called into the phone. _“We need to talk about this.”_

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mark replied, switching the phone to the other side as he picked at his bedsheets. “You’re a married man. I’m a dumb sap who missed his chance. If I ever even had one.”

 _“Please don’t talk like this,”_ Chris whispered. _“And you had a chance. A big one.”_

Mark slowly closed his eyes, licking his lips as he thought of Chris’ face right now. He was probably tired with bags under his eyes from parenting and the beautiful life of domesticity. His hair was probably rumpled and Mark was absolutely sure his lips were plump and red, or pink. They were always red or pink. “When do you wanna meet?”

 _“Now,”_ Chris iterated. _“I’m leaving the house. I’ll see you in twenty.”_

Mark heard a car door slam and that was the end of that conversation. He stared at the phone, his lips silently parted as they voiced everything Mark wanted to say and nothing at all. Chris was a married man. He was coming to Mark now to discuss those letters. Mark closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and falling back on the pillows. He wished he’d just fallen asleep. If he’d been asleep he would’ve missed Chris’ call and this could’ve been put off for another day.

He was suing whoever leaked his letters.

* * *

 

Mark had finally meandered out of his bed to make coffee and slump into one of the green sofas in his living room before Chris was already ringing the doorbell. He swallowed thickly, feeling his heart collect rocks as he stood to trudge over to the door. What did Chris even think he would accomplish with this? He was married and Mark knew his place. He hated it but he accepted it. It was even worse that Mark thought there was a chance… That there was a slim chance that Chris would leave Beth and they’d finally be what they never were.

He opened the door, feeling a blast of Texan heat hit him in the face before Chris rushed by him. “Well hello,” Mark chimed sarcastically.

Chris walked into the room with a rigid spine but set shoulders. His jaw was twitching and Mark was pretty sure his brow would be permanently all twisted up like that. He looked like he’d been cursing at the sky and beyond all the way here. His cheeks were flushed, the tips of his ears flushed and in his eyes…

Tears? Mark blinked, trying to focus as he turned on a few more lights. Chris’s face was puffy and his eyes red and glistening. He’d been crying. “Chris,” Mark breathed in astonishment. He moved his lips but words failed him miserably.

Chris sat down, shoving his fingers through his wavy hair. “This entire time,” he spoke unevenly, like he was walking on sandpaper and any moment he could crack and slip through. “I thought we were _friends_.”

So it was going this way. Mark could hear his heart crack and shatter.

“You told me to tell her how I feel. Told me to basically move on and I did.” Chris swallowed thickly pressing his palm against his brow before running his fingers through his hair again. “Just-got-fucked voice? My stupid face? That you’d die thinking of me?” He dropped his hands onto his lap, leaning back as he huffed out an exasperated sigh. “It took you to be alone on a _fucking_ planet to feel for me the way I did for you?”

Mark’s gaze snapped over to Chris’ face as he pushed his toes into the carpet. “W-what?”

“Christ,” Chris grumbled. “I loved you for the longest time, Mark. Why do you think I got all paranoid and looked you over all the damn time?”

“So you were just checking out my ass?” It wasn't a time for jokes but Mark wielded humor like knights wielded swords.

“No you dipshit!” Chris snapped. “I was scared of you getting hurt! I kept making sure you were safe! God _DAMN IT_ , Mark!” Chris flung himself back into the couch, smacking his lap again with his palms. “I worked so hard to shove my feelings for you into a box and reading those _stupid_ letters…”

Mark licked his lips, pressing his toes into the carpet again. He probably looked like an idiot, standing there by the window, clenching and relaxing his toes for lack of anything else to do.

“It all came rushing back and now I feel like my head’s spinning,” Chris continued. “And now I don’t know what to do because I want you too.”

Mark’s mouth dropped open. He didn’t know whether walking to Chris was the best idea or if hovering here like a jerk was the best maneuver. He wasn’t really good with this whole figuring out Chris right now. Chris was the one who usually told him how high to jump or to open and say _ah_. Mark having to make up his own decisions when dealing with Chris was surprisingly unique.

“Are you suggesting,” Mark began hesitantly. “That we make this work? That you, are you leaving Beth?”

“No,” Chris answered quickly. “I’m not ever leaving Beth. I love her as much as I love you.”

Mark stumbled back, pressing against the wall. “So what? You’re gonna cheat on her? Shove me in a closet and bring me out when she’s not home?”

“No!” Chris professed. He threw his whole body into the profession, rolling softly up, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Mark flailed his hands, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me then, because you either stay with her or you cheat on her or– or you tell me to go fuck myself.”

Chris cocked a brow, watching Mark as he paced in front of the television. “Or you could be with me openly. Just as Beth is. Both of you.”

Mark almost tripped. He laughed nervously, pressing a hand to his chest. “Wait, what?”

“Poly relationships aren’t unheard of anymore, Mark,” Chris explained. “Scientifically, the benefits of–”

“Don’t you get all science-shit on me right now!” Mark ordered as he pointed a finger accusingly at Chris.

Chris rolled his head, rubbing at his neck. “I’m just saying that they’re actually extremely healthy! You get more minds to teach kids, there’s less stress between the adults because we don’t have to check each and every box or spend an absurd amount of time with each other–”

“We share?” Mark spat. “What, you pass Beth around like a whore?”

“Hey, fuck you!” Chris shouted, standing up. “No. You’d pass me around like a whore you ignorant fuck!”

Mark’s brows raised. He wasn’t the least bit upset. They’d spent entirely too much time together in extremely confined spaces. Explosive fights often happened. That didn’t mean they didn’t value each other any less, especially if what Chris was saying was real. That he wanted Mark. He wanted Mark…and Beth.

It wasn’t ideal. Hell, Mark wasn’t even sure he’d call it a win but it had Chris in his life. That had to be a step in the right direction, right? “So, how does this work? Does she know already?”

“Absolutely,” Chris replied. “Do you think I’d propose this without asking her first?”

Mark flicked up his brows, nodding. “Wow. And she’s cool with this?”

“She loves you too, Mark,” Chris explained. “It’s just not the same love I feel for either of you.”

“I have to ask,” Mark ventured. “Did you cry when you read my letters?”

Chris stood up, pressing his lips together and scrunching up his face. He crossed the room to Mark, bringing him into a hug and wrapping his fingers into Mark’s hair. “I was shaking and sobbing on the damn bathroom floor. My toddler was even banging on the door asking if I was okay.”

Mark smiled, positively pleased with himself as he snaked his arms around Chris’ warm body. A body he’d longed to hold against his and feel it breathe into him– chests pressing against each other before exhaling and back again.

“You’re smiling, aren’t you?” Chris asked with his chin on Mark’s shoulder.

“You bet your bottom I am,” Mark laughed. “Sobbing on the bathroom floor. That’s lyrical.”

“I hate you.”

Mark pulled back, cupping Chris’ bristly cheek. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Ah, the glories of parenthood. “So we’re really doing this?”

“It’s all up to you. I can’t ask you to do this if you’re not comfortable, but I’m not leaving Beth. She comes first.”

Mark nodded, swallowing dryly. “So I’ll always be second best, huh?” He hadn’t meant to say it. In retrospect, he’d gobble those words up and swallow them down before ever speaking, but the reaction he got was so animated that part of him was relieved time couldn’t move backwards.

Chris reached up, cupping his face with both hands and giving the softest little shake. “No!” he exclaimed. “Never second best. I’ve got a _child_ with her. I do love her. I love you too. Not second best, just…not as complicated.”

“How many buns do you plan on cookin’ in that oven?” Mark teased, watching Chris’ eyes crinkle into a smile.

“Well, I think we’re stopping at this once, since we’re now gonna be taking care of you too.”

Mark pressed his forehead to Chris’, closing his eyes. “I tried to bury my feelings on Mars for you.”

Chris nodded. “And you would’ve gone your whole life hiding how you felt for me?”

“Yes,” Mark whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you, or lose you.”

Chris grabbed Mark’s fingers, bringing them up to his lips to brush against them. Not kissing, just simple caresses of the softest flesh Mark had ever felt against the pads of his rough fingers. “We came back to Mars for you. Do you honestly think I’d let you go over feelings you couldn’t control?”

Mark shrugged, watching Chris trace his fingers against those soft, kissable lips. “Maybe? I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight on Mars. I was too busy not dying.”

Chris laughed, all breathy and adorable. Mark found himself smiling again. “Too busy not dying,” Chris echoed. “I’m glad you were too busy with that. Because you’re mine now. Mine and Beth’s and I don’t expect you to fall in love with her. But you’re allowed to. But that’s between you two.”

Mark nodded, pulling his hand away from Chris’ lips and replacing them with his own lips. He slotted up against Chris, chaste and innocent at first but Chris’ silken tongue ran along his bottom lip and that was it.

Mark pushed him against the couch, feeling him fold beneath him as he moved to straddle his doctor. His. Theirs. Whatever. He’d work it out eventually. Chris was warm and real. These lips weren’t the cold smooth keys on a computer. They were flesh and blood and _eager_. He slipped his tongue into Chris’ mouth, tasting him intimately and letting his hands roam against his chest, feeling hard pectoral muscles beneath the hoodie he was wearing. “Why’re you even wearing this?” Mark asked, running his hands down Chris’ torso. “It’s like…90 degrees out and humid as fuck.”

Chris laughed, pulling Mark’s head to his again to press their lips together. He ran his fingers around and down Mark’s neck, leaving his fingers to push into his collar bones. “Because I like the next part.”

“The next part?” Mark asked, cocking a brow.

“The part where I take it off.”

“Already?” Mark asked, unable to contain his excitement. He rocked into Mark, pressing his growing erection against his lover. Lover? Was that right now? Lovers? Oh God, the very idea sent explosive chills down his spine, rattling his bones and caressing his heart. Lovers.

Chris laughed, running a hand over his face. “I mean, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

Mark tugged at the hem of Chris’ hoodie, his eyes widening at what he saw. Chris was built like a brickshithouse. His muscles were rippling, arms big and defined. “You wear sweaters and hoodies on purpose don’t you, you shitface.”

Chris laughed, rolling his eyes. “I like this part when people find out I’m a lot bigger than they think.” He cupped Mark’s ass, rocking him back so Mark fell into him, their lips crashing.

“You’ve got a better body than me,” Mark whined, running his fingers along those abs, mapping them out like the mountains on Mars. He wasn’t sure he was the first man to explore Chris, but he’d sure as hell be the last.

“Yours is gorgeous, now shut up and fuck me,” Chris growled, rolling his hips down against Mark roughly.

“Oh! Oh! Me?” Mark exclaimed, pointing to himself as if there was someone else in the room. “Seriously? I thought since you’re so demanding that you’d be a top.”

Chris shot the blankest stare Mark had ever seen. “Did you hear me?”

Mark nodded dumbly.

“I said shut up and fuck me.”

* * *

 

Mark lay atop the couch, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. This had happened. This was happening. Chris was on the floor, naked and panting, still trembling from their frantic, desperate actions. Mark reached his hand down, shocked to find Chris instantly grabbing it.

“You good?” Mark rasped. “Was that…good?”

Chris barked out a laugh, tugging on Mark’s hand to pull himself up. “I mean, you came more than me but we can work on that.”

Mark rolled his eyes, turning on his side. “I was excited. Sue me.”

Chris shrugged. “I just may.” He leaned over, placing a lazy kiss to Mark’s face. “But yes, it was good. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

“Hey! What does that mean?!”

Chris stood up, his flaccid cock swaying lazily as he moved to get dressed. “It means that I knew who I was in love with.”

Mark smiled, watching Chris bend over to grab his jeans. “I still can’t get over how built you are.”

Chris shrugged, gesturing to his torso. “Eh. I work out. It’s healthy. You remember doing healthy things, Mark?”

“Oh-ho-ho. Don’t start.” He reached down, touching his tummy with its hint of a potbelly. After coming back from Mars, he’d taken time to just appreciate life. Food (so much food), drinks, all the TV in the world, traveling and the list went on and on. He hadn’t had time to work out or stay in shape because when he’d come back, he was tiny and while beanpole is a shape, he’d long lost his muscles the day he was left on Mars.

“Hey,” Chris cut into his thoughts. He kneeled down before Mark, offering up a pouted and concerned face. “You with me?”

Mark smiled sadly, nodding. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Tell me,” Chris suggested.

There was so much that Mark wanted to say. He wanted to talk about why he liked his new, softer body. He wanted to explain why darkness and wind made him nervous. He wanted to ask thousands of questions about how Beth was even remotely okay with this or if Chris had just cheated and made up everything to get Mark to sleep with him. Not that Mark truly believed Chris would do such a thing, but it was still in his mind, mulling around the back, floating up into his stream of thought with each breath.

“What do we do now?”

Chris moved to sit next to Mark, sucking his lips in. He sighed through his nose. “Do you wanna move in with me and Beth?”

“Excuse me?” Mark gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chris’ eyes rounded and he recoiled a bit, dipping his chin against the fabric around his neck. “I told you. I talked to Beth already. It’s not like we don’t know you. We’ve lived with you before.”

“But this is different!” Mark completed, running his fingers through his hair. He’d longed to have a boring and uneventful day at the office and come home to Chris in nothing but an apron cooking food loaded with carbs but this wasn’t a fantasy. Mark would suddenly be in the same house with a toddler and a pregnant woman. He’d be giving up his home and be completely at the mercy of a married couple who for some godforsaken reason thought he was worthy of letting into their hearts. Call him crazy, but Mark was still reeling from the fact that he could still taste Chris in his mouth and feel him around his…

“Why is this different? Because we love you?”

Mark dropped his head against Chris’ shoulder, groaning. “I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You’re not. We love you.” Chris turned his face in to kiss Mark’s ear. “We want you with us. I swear to God we want you.”

Mark swallowed thickly, feeling all his resolve crumble away into a black hole to be lost to time and space forever. “Don’t leave me.”

Chris wrapped his arms around Mark, tugging him to the floor so they were kneeling before each other. His arms were wrapped tightly around Mark’s body, cupping the back of his head. “I am _never_ leaving you _ever_ again.”

* * *

 

Beth rubbed at her belly absentmindedly as she watched Chris buzz around Mark, picking up his boxes and walking them up to the porch before jogging back down again. Somehow, this crazy suggestion was working. Somehow though everything, Mark was coming to live with them where Beth and Chris could keep him safe and remind him he never had to be alone again.

Beth wasn’t an idiot, in fact, she was the complete opposite direction of an idiot. She knew Chris loved Mark even before Mark realized he’d loved Chris. She knew when she started to fall for Chris that she’d have to welcome Mark into her life just as much. Mark and Chris were like two planets locked in each other’s gravitational pull. They started far apart but no matter what occurred, they were always destined to collide into each other.

Chris had been a mess the day he read those letters. He’d locked himself in the bathroom and Beth had never heard such wailed, agonized cries. She’d stood by the door, her own heart twisting up in her chest as she listened to her husband’s whimpers and whispered confessions, _I should’ve waited, I should’ve told him._

Beth had been terrified Chris planned to leave her. She’d sat with him at the dining room table as he stared at the printed letters, all crumpled and tearstained. She’d even asked:

“Are you leaving me?”

Chris had looked so appalled Beth wanted to turn to stone from guilt. “No!”

“Then what’re you doing? You still love him.”

“I love you too,” Chris had answered immediately. “I love Valentina. I love that little thing in your belly right now. I can’t leave this.” He reached over, rubbing at her stomach adoringly. “This is my life.”

Beth sat back, sighing. His hand was warm against her swollen stomach and the baby inside even squirmed at its father’s touch. They were trying so hard to hold off knowing the sex of the baby but it was getting harder and harder as they days passed by. “So what? You cry and get over it? That’s not gonna happen. He clearly still loves you too.”

“I know,” Chris whispered as he pulled his hand back from Beth’s stomach. “Is it wrong? To feel like this when I’ve got you and Val?”

Beth pursed her lips, scooting closer to her husband to brush her fingers into his hair. “No. It’s human.”

“Humans weren’t meant to pair bond. It was a social construction brought by monotheistic practitioners to control people through marriage.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “You married me, you dope.”

“Not in a church. I didn’t expect– I didn’t–”

“It’s okay,” Beth reassured, pulling Chris’ face to hers. She brushed her nose against his, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ve read studies, about polyamory.”

Chris pulled back, his eyes wide and aghast. “What?”

“Humans used to live in bands, right? A whole village to raise a child? C’mon doctor keep up with me here.”

“I can’t ask you to do this,” Chris had said. “I can’t ask you to change your entire life to fit me.”

“I love Mark,” Beth reassured. She reached out to grab Chris’ hand. “I don’t love him the way you do, but I love him. I’d gladly spend the rest of my life with both of you.”

“Would you– I mean, would you n’ Mark…?”

Beth raised her brow, an amused smirk at her plush lips. “Have a baby together?”

Chris averted his gaze.

“I dunno. I guess it depends on how I feel. I’ve already got two of yours.”

“ _Ours_ ,” Chris had corrected immediately. “We both created those kids.”

Beth laughed, remembering how they finished off their conversation that night before Chris went to speak to Mark. She loved how inadvertently feminist Chris was by pure reason of science. The whole medieval “men put babies in women” really rubbed him the wrong way genetically.

“Mommy?” Val asked as she tugged on Beth’s sweatpants. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay sweetie,” Beth replied as she scooped her child up against her hip to bring her into the kitchen. “Let’s get you lunch.”

She gently plopped Val into her highchair before going over to the cabinet to pull out the peanut butter.

Chris and Mark came into the kitchen, both loud and making rather unintelligent jokes.

“Our child’s in here,” Beth sang as Chris turned the corner around the island to kiss Beth on the cheek.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Got your stuff mostly inside?” Beth asked as she pulled out the bread to make Val her sandwich.

Mark nodded, his body visibly tensing. He put his hands on his hips. Beth watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest. She wondered what it’d be like to press her hand against that chest as he looked up at her while Chris made love to her from behind.

Blinking, Beth pressed her free hand to her stomach, reminding herself that she was already pregnant and while having sex was perfectly fine during pregnancy, Chris felt uncomfortable about it (he still went down on her thank the Lord) and she was getting way ahead of herself. She didn’t know if Mark would even be okay with them engaged in such activity or if Chris would just bounce between the two of them. It was a talk they needed to have, but not in front of her child.

She walked the peanut butter sandwich over to her child, sitting by Val to cut up the pieces.

“I’ve got a couple more boxes in the truck but I’m mostly all set.”

“Do you have any plates or anything you want to add in here?” Beth inquired. “I could help with that.”

Mark gently kicked at the doorframe in discomfort. He stretched his shirt collar before nodding. “That’d be great.”

Beth didn’t need any of her degrees to see how uncomfortable Mark was. She was trying to seem welcoming but going up to him and kissing his face would probably set him off and again, toddler in the room. “Well, show me which boxes and I’ll get to work!” She offered a kind smile, her brown eyes catching the light to look like warmed honey that glistened in the sun.

“You shouldn’t be leaning over to pick up boxes,” Chris chided, popping a grape in his mouth. “I’ll get ‘em.” He buzzed out of the room, sucking out all the positive energy along the way.

Beth pressed her lips together, holding her breath as she watched Mark fidget against the doorframe. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Really?” Mark responded, furrowing his brows. “This isn’t weird to you?”

Chris came back in, the dishes in the box clacking together as he set them on the island. “There. Uh, do you have any pots or pans?”

“Uh no. I put all that in storage.”

“You didn’t need to rent a storage facility,” Beth added. She licked her finger before wiping it along the corner of Val’s mouth to catch some stray peanut butter. “We’ve got a three car garage.”

Mark shoved his hands into his jeans, flicking his brows up once. “I didn’t wanna clutter up your house.”

Chris moved to Mark, pressing his hips against him and pulling his hands out of his pockets. He brought them against his chest, encasing them with his own. “This is your house too, Mark.”

Mark went rigid, pressing himself back into the wall. His eyes flicked wildly to Beth, waiting for her to react or scream. Maybe change her mind and call the whole thing off but that’s not what she did. She smiled, licking peanut butter off her pinky. She’d prove him absolutely wrong. Mark was a sweet man. He was guarded and pretended to be light-hearted when he was anything but. He was scared and suffering from an experience he’d never get over. But he was still sweet. He’d treat Val like his own and he’d take her to ballet and go buy her pads when those years finally came around. Beth was absolutely sure of it. She loved Mark, just differently, than Chris. But that didn’t make her love any less valid and that didn’t make her desire to welcome him here any less strong.

“Hey,” Chris cooed, caressing Mark’s face. “This is your house too.”

Mark sighed, closing his eyes as he melted into Chris’ touch. Beth’s heart swelled as she watched them. There was a tenderness there that most didn’t see between men, a softness that encased them in warmth and security. Beth would have whimpered from the rush of emotions gushing into her chest but she grabbed a water bottle to gulp down.

“I’m gonna put Val down for her nap. We should all talk after?” Beth suggested as she ran her fingers through her daughter’s curly brown hair.

“Sure thing, babe,” Chris replied, his head still resting against Mark’s. “We’re gonna keep unpacking.”

She nodded, watching as Mark scurried out of the kitchen. “He’s nervous,” she evaluated.

Chris sighed, shoving his hands into his front pocket of his hoodie. “I know. I think he doesn’t really believe you’re okay with this.”

“It was my suggestion,” Beth protested, pressing a hand to her heart.

Chris kissed the top of her head, his hand coming to lightly caress her swollen belly before following after Mark.

Beth sighed, rubbing her fingers against her stomach, feeling her unborn child. She, along with the rest of the Ares 3 crew had risked everything for Mark. What made him think she wouldn’t do it again? She’d gladly share Chris with him after everything he’d been through. He deserved to know he had people who really loved him. Mark was always the jokester with the biggest smile but Beth saw through that. His laughter was to drown out his sorrow. He’d been lonely before they left Earth and she was very sure he’d been more than maniacally lonely on Mars.

Turning, she wiped some peanut butter off her daughter’s face before taking the plate to place in the sink.

* * *

 

Chris sat at the piano, his legs wide as he leaned his elbows against his knees as he watched Mark pace in front of the white fireplace. Beth was upstairs putting Val down for her nap and then after, they’d finally have this discussion. Chris wasn’t concerned. Beth was intelligent and precise. She’d lay her terms out and all would be well. It was Mark that Chris was worried about. Mark was impulsive and highly-emotional. That wasn’t a bad thing. Chris loved when Mark was excited he was really _excited_. He loved when Mark was sad he was _sad_. Mark had a child-like regard for emotions and the world around them. Chris found that captivating. Usually, Mark was the ball of optimism but for this situation it was anything but. He moved like he was walking on glass as if any step could cut his skin. There was only so much Chris could say or do before it came down to Mark to just accept it.

And he _had_ accepted it. Well, the arrangement. He’d moved from his home into Beth and Chris’ and here they were, waiting for Beth to really talk about their feelings and how this would all work. Truth be told, Chris hadn’t really spoken to Beth other than their original conversation the day Chris read the letters. He figured it was better if they came to agreements as a trio (Beth called them a triad, apparently that was the correct poly term). He wanted Mark to feel like he was on equal ground with Chris and Beth. Yeah, they were married and yeah, they had a child and one on the way but that didn’t mean Chris loved Mark any less.

When he saw those letters… God, his whole world shattered around him, dumping buckets of ice over his head, the ground slipping from beneath his feet to plummet him into a whirlpool of turmoil and anguish. He’d never seen such brutal honesty and even then he knew Mark had been holding back. Mark hadn’t said everything in those letters and that’s what _killed_ Chris. They were professions of a desperate man who could only think about how he felt on the surface. Mark was so much more complicated than that. Which meant one thing– Chris meant more to him than he suggested in those letters.

Chris closed his eyes, listening to his wife’s socked feet pitter-patter down the stairs. She turned, using the banister to swing around before plopping down onto the couch. “You’re gonna swirl the baby around,” Chris teased.

“Oh you know that’s not physically possible,” Beth teased back, sticking her tongue out.

Chris smiled, his eyes shimmering in adoration for his wife. He did love her. He loved her so much sometimes he forgot how to breathe. She was kind, so smart and _good_. Her devotion knew no bounds and this scenario was proof of that. She was willing to change her entire life for Chris, regardless of her feelings for Mark or not. She’d never have done this on her own. Chris was eternally grateful that he passed up a chance to get married back in undergrad.

“So,” Beth led, tapping her fingers nervously on her knee. “This is the part we’ve all been waiting for.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mark whirled. He was breathing heavily and Chris could see sweat glistening from his forehead. He’d either gotten hot moving boxes (totally plausible) or he was worrying himself sick (also totally plausible). “I mean, I’m gonna fuck your husband. I’m gonna kiss him and hold his hand and–”

“Yes,” Beth interrupted. “From what Chris tells me, you’ve already made love.”

Mark’s eyes rounded as he stared at Chris, his pouted mouth hanging open unintelligibly.

Chris shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t keep secrets from her.”

Mark collapsed into the loveseat along the bay window. “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” Beth assured. “I except that in time…you’d maybe want to do that with me too?”

If Mark could break into a thousand pieces and shatter into the wind, he probably would have. He stared at Beth, his mouth _still_ hanging open.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” Beth backpedaled. “Or maybe we can all three?”

“Oh my God,” Mark professed again. “This is happening.”

“Well don’t you want it to?” Beth asked, her tiny brows pinching together against her delicate head. “You love Chris, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Mark responded, his voice overflowing with conviction.

“And you like me, right?”

“Of course I do. You know I love you, Beth,” Mark answered. “It’s just-”

“Different,” Beth finished. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m perfectly fine with having a boyfriend who just watches Netflix with me and eats tubs of ice cream in a no judgement zone.” She waved a manicured hand through the air for emphasis.

“I don’t judge you when you eat tubs of ice cream,” Chris commented, crossing his arms but there was a smile on his face.

“You judge,” Beth affirmed, simply blinking. She turned back to Mark, curling her feet beneath her on the couch. “I’m not comfortable with a lot of things Mark. But I’m comfortable with you.”

Chris watched with bated breath, his gaze flicking up and down Mark’s body– face, hands, face, hands.

Mark sighed, sitting back against the loveseat. “So, what’re your limits?”

“I’d rather hear yours first,” Beth responded. “Chris goes last.”

Mark opened his mouth, taking in a breath and lightly tracing his teeth against his bottom lip. “Okay. Uh, I’m not comfortable with uh… Changing your kid’s diapers. She’s a little girl and I’m not related to her so that’s weird.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“I’m not okay with…uh…” He licked at his lips, getting them shimmering wet as he seemed to search his brain for his limits. “Uh, shit. Just no like, weird German dungeon porn.”

Beth giggled, looking over to Chris, watching a smile spread on his face as well.

“Poor Vogel,” Chris joked.

“I don’t know,” Mark admitted. “Are you guys really kinky?”

“No,” Beth answered. “Not really.”

Chris shrugged. “Not really my thing.”

“Oh. Okay. Wow, this is awkward.”

“Why? You kinky?” Beth asked, grabbing a pillow and pressing it against her stomach.

Mark laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Not really. Maybe the occasional tie your ankles to your wrists kind of thing but not really.”

“Tie your ankles to your wrists?” Chris echoed, his brow crinkling.

“It gets deeper,” Mark replied, flicking his brow up challengingly.

“Noted,” Chris breathed, adjusting himself where he sat. The base of his spine tingled at the thought of Mark tying him up and taking him _deep_.

“Can I watch? Is that too kinky?” Beth asked. “I mean, if you ever tie Chris up. I wanna watch.”

Mark laughed, seeming to get more comfortable. “If Bossy Beck is cool with that.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “You know I hate that nickname, right?”

“Stop being so bossy then!” Mark teased, shrugging as if it was the simplest answer in the universe.

Chris rolled his head, thinking about Mark taking his clothes off softly, kissing him as each article dropped to the floor. How his fingers would be so gentle as they made sure the knots were secure but didn’t chafe against Chris’ skin and how he’d swing Chris’ legs over his shoulders, arms pulling up along with them. He’d push into Chris, one long thrust that’d leave Chris howling out a low, guttural moan and Beth… She could be there, watching with her legs splayed open as she’d leisurely play with her clit. He shivered, blinking a few times to remove the image from his head.

“Chris?” Mark asked, a smug grin on his face. “How you feel about a little voyeurism”

Chris opened his mouth, but no words came out. He nodded stupidly.

“I’ve always wanted to see you bottom,” Beth said as she crossed the room, slinking into Chris’ lap. She brushed her lips against the shell of his ear, her breath hot against his skin. “You get all whimpery when I play with your hole.”

Chris’ fingers pressed into Beth’s thighs. He had to suppress the urge to roll up into her. “C-can we talk about something else?”

Mark laughed. It sent warm shivers through Chris’ body. He needed that sound. Mark’s laughter was a good sign when it wasn’t there to cover up his insecurities. And that laugh, Chris knew it was unabashed and freely given with no hidden motive. Mark was finally starting to settle in.

“Wow,” Mark said. “This is so interesting.”

“And what about us?” Beth asked. “If it’s just you and me?”

Chris licked his lips, his gaze flicking back and forth between Mark and Beth as he waited for Mark’s answer.

“Uh,” Mark stammered. “Maybe kissing and cuddling for now? No judgement zone of course. I too enjoy the occasional tub of ice cream.”

Beth smiled, pulling up from Chris and skipping over to Mark. She sat next to him, nuzzling into his shoulder. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

“Yeah,” Mark seconded, wrapping an arm around Beth. “I mean, I always said you were hot. Just, ya’know, the whole you’re married to the man-of-my-dreams kind of thing.”

Chris’ brows shot up against his hairline. “I’m the man of your dreams?”

Mark winked, offering that smug Mark Watney grin. “You bet your sweet ass you are.”

Chris felt like he was soaring. He’d been so crushed when he found those letters, feeling that he’d forever missed his chance to be with Mark. Yet here was Mark, tucking an arm around Beth and making plans to tease the shit out of Chris in bed with Beth and Chris didn’t care that they were mentioning nipple clamps and rope, he was on cloud nine (and he also had a pretty good feeling they were joking about the  nipple clamps…he hoped). His body was humming, bones vibrating so pointedly he had to stand up and cross the room. He dropped between Beth and Mark, giggling when their arms came around him and Beth started pressing kisses into his cheeks and Mark just laughed against his ear.

He reached up, caressing his fingers through both of their hair. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Mark shrugged, looking over to Beth for an answer.

She shrugged.

“We’re gonna take such good care of you, Mark,” Chris said, his voice getting serious. “I swear to God you’ll never feel alone or abandoned again.”

Mark smiled sadly, nodding. “I know. I trust you.”

Chris would spend the rest of his days proving his promise over and over.


End file.
